Under My Skin
by ElvishGrrl
Summary: Damon's in an awkward position - he's in love with his brother's girlfriend. Elena is terrified of the intense feelings she's developed for her boyfriend's brother. When Damon suddenly leaves town, she finds she's lost without him & turns to other things to help cope with her pain & guilt. Warning: this is a pretty dark story. Rated M for a reason.
1. Down In It

**A/N ** So this started off as a one-shot. It was going to be a series of one shots, all Damon's POV, based on songs from the Nine Inch Nails album "Pretty Hate Machine". Last night I had a better idea and I've decided turning it into a story. Each chapter is based on a song and I'll either quote the whole song, or some specific lyrics beforehand, depending on what's relevant. If you don't know the song, I highly recommend listening to it. Each chapter will include both points of view. This story will be rather dark. Rated M for a reason. Strong language, sex, violence and drug use in later chapters. Please let me know what you think. Thank you in advance for your reviews!

***DISCLAIMER*** _I do **NOT** own Vampire Diaries or the characters associated with Vampire Diaries. No copyright infringement intended. _

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><p><strong>Under My Skin<strong>

**Chapter #1 - Down In It**

"_Kinda like a cloud, I was up - way up in the sky  
>And I was feeling some feelings you wouldn't believe.<br>Sometimes I don't believe them myself and I decided I was never coming down.  
>Just then a tiny little dot caught my eye.<br>It was just about too small to see.  
>But I watched it way too long. It was pulling me down.<br>_

_I was up above it. (x 4)  
>Now I'm down in it.<em>

_Shut up. So what. What does it matter now?  
>I was swimming in the haze, now I crawl on the ground.<br>And everything I never liked about you is kind of seeping into me.  
>I try to laugh about it now, but isn't it funny how everything works out?<br>'I guess the jokes on me,' she said._

I used to be so big and strong.  
>I used to know my right from wrong.<br>I used to never be afraid.  
>I used to be somebody.<br>I used to have something inside.  
>Now just this hole that's open wide.<br>I used to want it all.  
>I used to be somebody.<p>

_I'll cross my heart and hope to die.  
>But the needle's already in my eye.<br>And all the world's weight is on my back and I don't even know why.  
>What I used to think was me is just a fading memory.<br>I looked him right in the eye and said 'goodbye.'_

Rain, rain, go away. Come again some other day."

- music & lyrics by Trent Reznor, Nine Inch Nails

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><p><strong>Damon's POV<strong>

You know, for the past nearly one hundred years, I've liked myself just fine. Never had any problem with self-respect. Never had any identity crises. Confidence was my middle name.

Until she came along.

Somehow this tiny slip of a girl, this gorgeous, doe-eyed una-fucking-tainable girl managed to get under my skin. Me. And I have no idea how.

I could argue that I wanted her because of the thrill of the chase and the fact that she had zero interest in me - something I am SO not used to, by the way. I could tell you I just wanted to take what my brother had, to make him suffer as I'd promised him I would for all eternity.

I could make up lots of reasons to explain why I crave Elena Gilbert so badly. But none of them would be true. There's no explanation, no reasoning, no common sense involved. I just fell in love with her, plain and simple.

And now I hate myself for it.

I drink a lot these days. 'Yeah, sure, what else is new,' you're thinking. True. But I mean I drink a LOT these days. It's starting to make a dent in my considerable savings. Top-shelf bourbon is not an inexpensive indulgence and I'm putting away three, sometimes four bottles a day lately. Luckily vampires can handle their liquor without things getting too sloppy. At least I can anyway.

I don't go out much. I never hunt. I never pick up hot and more than willing chicks to fuck their brains out and snack on any more. Can't even remember the last time I did, actually. I've let my life become pitiful. I subsist on cold blood from the freezer in the basement. Barely. I'm dead and I'm hardly living. How ironic is that?

She keeps telling me to "be the better man." What the fuck, right? If she can't see how much I've changed for her, she must be blind, deaf and dumb, too. But none of it matters anyway. I'm like some big, docile puppet that she's pulling the invisible strings of and it makes not one fucking iota of difference.

Elena will never love me. She 'cares about' me. She claims she trusts me. She wants me around. Hell, it probably strokes her ego to no end. I mean, it's not like my feelings for her are exactly a secret these days. But I know she can't love me. She's in love with my incredible douchebag of a brother and there's not a damn thing I'll ever be able to do to change that. 'Soulmates' and all that happy-crappy. He doesn't deserve her. But shit, neither do I.

She's kind, compassionate, incomprehensibly forgiving and fiercely loyal. Descriptive words that not so long ago I would have told you were the complete opposite of me. She is also often stupidly brave, incredibly strong-willed and stubborn as all get out. This, I can relate to.

We fight a lot, she and I. Oddly, it's one of the things I love best about our strange, dysfunctional relationship. We bring out such passion in one another. I'd bet that sex with her might literally set us both on fire. It's a risk I'd be willing to take.

So I sit here like the gigantic idiot that I am, and I drink and I mope. I've become broody. Jesus-fucking-Christ, I've turned into Stefan! Kill me now. I'll need to return my Bad-Ass Vampire card shortly.

I roll my eyes toward the ceiling and suck back the rest of my drink. This needs to end. Involuntarily I squeeze the glass in my hand so hard it shatters beneath my fingers. I'm entranced at the sight of the blood dripping down my palm as all the small wounds begin to heal.

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><p>It's the middle of the night and I'm standing outside her bedroom window, looking up and waffling on what I want to do next. I've been standing here for almost two hours. Yeah, before you say it - I already know. But vampires are, in essence, the perfect stalkers. It's one of the things we do best. I'm quite capable of keeping completely immobile for hours on end. I don't need to breath or shiver or blink or anything. My mind is the only thing moving right now.<p>

She doesn't lock her window. The logical explanation is that she leaves it open so my brother can come and go as he pleases, without disrupting the household. But a part of me knows deep inside that she does it for me, too. She's always acting annoyed or sarcastic about my nighttime visits, but I hear her pulse race when she sees me perched on her window seat. Often I can smell her instant arousal as well. I said she could never love me – I never said she wasn't attracted to me. I mean, have you _seen_ me?

I leap silently to her windowsill and slip inside, closing the window noiselessly behind me so an errant breeze won't disturb her. We're apex predators, vampires. I can creep up on anyone without a sound, if I choose. It comes in handy.

She is even more breathtaking when she's asleep. All the worry lines leave her face and she looks so peaceful and innocent. The steady thump of her heartbeat and the sweet fragrance of her skin are like a fucking magnet to me. How can I not be drawn to her?

Ever so gently I sit down on the bed beside her and reach over to brush a loose strand of hair off her forehead that has escaped her ponytail. Her skin feels hot and electric under my fingers. I would give my life for this woman and she doesn't even want it.

A sigh of frustration escapes my lips and suddenly she mumbles something to herself and rolls over, away from me.

I freeze. If I had a beating heart, it would have paused. Did my ears just report that back to my brain correctly? Did she really just say "Damon"?

Not in an annoyed way, not in an amused way…but…dare I say it? It sounded almost…loving.

I shake my head once, to clear out those dangerous thoughts, and I stand up. This is wrong; it's all wrong. I have to get out of here before she wakes up and discovers me invading her privacy.

At vampire speed I hastily exit the window. Just before it closes behind me, I could swear I hear her whisper my name once again.

I am completely fucked.

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><p><strong>Elena's POV<strong>

I have a secret.

It's buried so deeply inside me that half the time I'm able to pretend it's a secret even from myself. I've gotten very good at pretending. Don't look so skeptical!

Things used to be great. Well, not _great_ per se - nothing has been truly _great_ in my life since my parents died. But…things used to be better. Good even. Less complicated for sure.

I met a boy at the beginning of my junior year. A handsome, mysterious boy who attracted me instantly with those cheekbones and that hair and those smoky green eyes. At first he drew me in and pushed me away with equal force, which only made me more and more determined. Stefan seemed so sad sometimes. My Florence Nightingale side took over and I became determined to make him smile.

It turned out he had his own secrets. Case in point – I found out that he's a vampire. Cursed to be 17 forever. It was both terrifying and tragic to me. But, instead of making me flee screaming like it probably should have, it only drew me in further. Once I found out, he tried harder to push me away and I stubbornly refused to give up. Eventually his resistance crumbled and we fell in love.

This was about four months after my parents were killed in a tragic car accident that almost took my life as well. I later found out that it was Stefan who saved me from perishing that night. I owe him my life.

After losing my parents and nearly dying myself, the idea of dating a vampire doesn't seem so scary. A part of me is no longer afraid to die.

You're probably wondering what the problem is, then? The problem is that Stefan is not the only vampire around. He has an older brother.

When I first met Damon, he completely took my breath away. He is stunningly beautiful. The great artists of the Renaissance would have created masterpieces in honour of this man. Jet black, tousled hair, sculpted jawline, full, sensuous lips and those eyes. My God, those eyes. Damon's clear, blue eyes can look through you straight into your soul. He looks like a fallen angel.

Back then, I came to understand he was more like the devil.

I won't go into all the detail for you, but in short, Damon has changed monumentally over the past couple of years. When I first met him, he was in a very bad place and his behavior was unconscionable. Beyond horrible. He's done horrendous things. Things I should never have forgiven him for. But I have. For some reason I always do, with him.

He and I, against all odds, have become friends. Close friends. I know - who would ever have thought, right? We've had our ups and downs to be sure, but at the end of the day, he's always there for me whenever I need someone. And he loves me.

He doesn't have to say it - it's obvious to me and I suspect to everyone else around us, too. His love for me is so intense and powerful that it overwhelms me sometimes. He would do anything for me and we both know it.

But I'm his brother's girlfriend. I know Stefan feels threatened by the way Damon and I are with each other. He sees the way his brother looks at me. I suspect he's noticed the way I look at Damon sometimes, too. I try so hard not to let my feelings for him show, but Stefan knows me and he's not stupid.

Sometimes when I'm alone in bed at night, I allow myself to think about him. I push aside the guilt and disgust with myself and really _think_ about him. How he makes me feel. How he makes me laugh. How I can almost rediscover my old self, the Elena of _before_, when I'm with him.

Damon's so different from his brother. He's impulsive and passionate about everything he does. He's spontaneous and sometimes ends up making very stupid decisions because of that. He lets his heart rule him. Sometimes I envy that. I get stuck in my head too much, trying to do the 'right thing' too much.

Don't get me wrong – I love Stefan, really I do. But, Damon is my deep, dark secret. I'm terrified that I might be in love with him, too.

Which makes me a horrible person, right? If I allow myself to go there, all three of us will get hurt for sure. So I bury it. If I don't, it causes me actual, physical pain.

Sometimes I hate myself for it.


	2. Something I Can Never Have

****A/N** **_Thank you for all your favourites and reviews. I really appreciate it! As I said before, this story is much darker than any of my others, and that comes to the forefront already in this chapter. I can't stress enough - it's rated M for a reason. Strong language and adult content including but not limited to drug use, sex and violence. Having said that, for those that are reading, I truly hope you enjoy my story and will continue to follow it through as it proceeds. Please leave me a review if you're able - I read them all and respond to as many as I can. Your thoughts on my writing mean the world to me. Thank you!_

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><p><strong>Chapter 2 – Something I Can Never Have<strong>

"I still recall the taste of your tears  
>Echoing your voice just like the ringing in my ears.<br>My favorite dreams of you still wash ashore  
>Scraping through my head 'til I don't want to sleep anymore.<p>

You make this all go away.  
>You make this all go away.<br>I'm down to just one thing  
>And I'm starting to scare myself.<br>You make this all go away.  
>You make this all go away.<br>I just want something.  
>I just want something I can never have.<p>

You always were the one to show me how.  
>Back then I couldn't do the things that I can do now.<br>This thing is slowly taking me apart.  
>Grey would be the color if I had a heart.<p>

In this place it seems like such a shame.  
>Though it all looks different now,<br>I know it's still the same  
>Everywhere I look you're all I see.<br>Just a fading fucking reminder of who I used to be.

I just want something I can never have."

- music & lyrics by Trent Reznor, Nine Inch Nails

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><p><strong>Damon's POV<strong>

I'm pathetic. But I'm sure you've already figured that much out. It's entirely possible everyone in town knows it by now. She certainly does.

Ever since that night in her room when I overheard Elena say my name in her sleep, things have been different. To be honest, I kinda wish I'd never heard it. Because hearing that one little word leave her sleeping lips gave me something I absolutely _should_ _not_ have. It gave me a tiny sliver of hope.

I tried to stifle it before it could bloom, but it was too late. Apparently I'm such an absolute sucker for punishment that I grasped it like a fucking life preserver in the middle of the ocean. And held on for dear life.

I now find myself examining our interactions even more closely than I did before. Looking for clues to how she really feels to add fuel to this pointless fire I have burning within me. And the most fucked up thing of all? I'm actually seeing some. It's gotta be wishful thinking at its finest. There's no other explanation.

Like the way she sometimes looks at me when she thinks no one else is watching. I see a flicker of something behind those big, brown eyes of hers. Something that my warped mind obviously misinterprets. Because it looks almost like…no. I'm not even gonna say it.

There are also little touches here and there. Her hand on my bicep or my elbow as she speaks to me. The soft brush of her knuckles against mine as she takes a glass from my hands. Her fingers gently pressing on the side of my face when she thinks I'm distracted and she's trying to get me to pay more attention to whatever it is she's telling me. As if there's _ever_ a time I'm not paying close attention to anything she does. Each time we make contact her touch feels like hot coals burning into my skin.

I'm over-analyzing everything and reading way too fucking much into it all. What if she does have some hidden feelings for me? So what? She's much too moral to ever act on them. And even if it _is_ true - which I'm certainly not saying it is – it still doesn't change anything. She loves him. He loves her. He's my baby brother. End of story.

I made a decision a few days ago. This "thing" that seems to be growing between us – and yes, innuendo most definitely intended there – it isn't healthy. For me, and also, by extension, for anyone else around me. I needed to get some space. Space away from her, yes, but also space away from the two of them together. Because I didn't think I could take another second of having to hear her with him. Having enhanced hearing and living in the same house as Stefan has not been a real fucking joy, I can tell you. Sometimes overhearing the two of them makes me grit my teeth so hard I'm afraid I'm gonna wear them down. I've been turning up my music very loud. And you wonder why I drink so damn much?

I couldn't bring myself to go very far, however. So here I am now, staying on the outskirts of town at the Bates Motel. I shit you not, that's what it's called. The proprietress, Florence Bates, who's gotta be 80 if she's a day, is obviously not a Hitchcock fan. Her loss.

The room is small and a bit shabby, but it's clean and that's the most important thing. I "talked her into" renting me one with a newer mattress and a television that was actually made in the last decade. I've brought my stash of liquor, a cooler full of blood bags on ice and a stack of books to read. I'm good to go for a week or so if I need to. There's a scummy looking neon cowboy-type roadhouse across the way. I've decided I'm gonna go over later and find myself some fresh blood for once. Damn right I am. I need a distraction in the worst possible way right now.

She's called or texted me countless times since I left the boarding house. I've ignored every one, although I detest the guilty pang I get each time I press that button. I haven't listened to a single message. I keep telling myself it's for the best for both of us right now, but I'm not sure I've convinced myself yet.

I pour myself a fresh glass of bourbon and lie back down on the bed to wait until evening. Tonight I'm going to find myself a short, curvy, wavy-haired blonde with green or maybe blue eyes - any colour but brown. She doesn't know it yet, but I'm gonna totally rock her world. I need to re-find the old Damon pronto, before he disappears completely. He would loathe who I've become.

This hope thing – it fucking sucks even more than when I had none.

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><p><strong>Elena's POV<strong>

He left.

Stefan tells me he thinks it's only temporary. God, I hope so. He won't pick up his phone or return my messages. I don't know what I've done to send him running, but I know it's my fault, somehow.

Something's changed over the past few weeks between Damon and I, but I can't quite put my finger on what it is. His eyes seem to linger on me longer and more frequently. Often I catch his brows narrowing slightly like he's trying to figure me out. I haven't gotten up the courage to ask what's going on. I'm not sure I want to know the answer.

I can feel myself pulling away from Stefan a bit lately, too, which adds yet another layer to the guilt I'm bearing. I just haven't been able to bring myself to be cuddly and couple-y with him. It's become difficult to focus my attention on Stefan right now, when all I can think about anymore is his brother. I am officially the worst girlfriend ever.

I hate how all this makes me feel. I hate how it's surely making Stefan feel. And there are times lately when I hate Damon for it most of all. Sometimes I get so angry at him for causing this one thing that was so good in my life to go all pear-shaped. Once in awhile I think it would have been far better if he'd never returned to Mystic Falls that day.

I know I'm not being fair, but sometimes it's easier to shove the blame onto him than to take any more onto myself.

I just did something I'm not too proud of. But I really need to get out of my head for a while. This sadness and rage feels like it's taking me over tonight. Promise not to judge? I went through my Aunt Jenna's old stash of pain medication and sedatives. After she died, I hid away the bottles in a bottom drawer in my room behind my old sweats to keep them away from my brother Jeremy's sight. He can be so easily tempted with narcotics, and I didn't want him to even be aware of them. But I never threw them out and kind of forget they were there after all the chaos that's been our lives since she passed.

I remembered that stash this evening, just when I was about ready to start ripping my hair out in frustration. When I looked through it, I discovered most of a bottle of Valium. I know Valium can help turn your brain off. It can calm you down. It can put you to sleep. I didn't even think about it, I just did it. I took two of the small pills.

So now I'm curled up in my bed with my phone clutched in my fingers, still waiting for a message from him that I know I'm not going to receive. I'm no longer angry. I'm no longer feeling guilty. I can sense the first vestiges of hazy sleep starting to take me over. My breathing is slowing and deepening. I try to hold onto his face as sleep overtakes me.

How is it possible that I already miss him so much?

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><p><strong>Damon's POV<strong>

This place is fucking disgusting. I actually have to make effort to suppress my shudders of revulsion. I'm pretty sure I fail. The floor is so sticky with the residue of spilled beer, spit and God knows what else that my boots resist coming back up with my feet at every step. The shitty country music blares loudly, but it can't drown out the whine of the pathetic drunken voices that fill my ears. The air of sheer desperation is etched onto almost every face I glance at. This place is cheap and the clientele are even cheaper.

It's exactly what I need right now.

I head straight for the bar and cringe at the low-end swill that's poured into a glass in front of me. I was drunk before I left my room, so luckily my ability to give a shit has decreased substantially. Instead of downing it with a grimace, I hold it in my hand and turn around to survey the scene before me.

The neon sign across the way proclaims this place as "Zeke's". Nothing more, nothing less. A low brow name for a low brow establishment. I don't care anyway. I'm only allowing myself to care about two things tonight - pussy and blood. That's it. Time to find myself a likely donor.

The dance floor is crowded with gyrating bodies. Most of the women are scantily clad and clearly looking to get fucked. Someone's going to get very lucky tonight indeed. I scan the crowd, notice a few possibilities and am just about to make my way over to a group of cowboy-booted gals celebrating a bachelorette party, when I spot someone that freezes my gaze.

I'm facing her profile. She's several inches shorter than me, with long, straight, dark hair and graceful fluttering lashes. It's not _her_ of course, but by God this girl could be her sister. She's talking animatedly with her friend and hasn't noticed my stare. I sigh. She's the exact opposite of what I want tonight, and yet I know already that she is precisely who I will have.

I approach her and fix her with my most charming smile. She turns toward me as she notices me and I falter in my tracks for a brief second. Shit. She even has brown eyes. I firmly tell myself to keep smiling and keep right on walking. But do I listen? Not a fucking chance.

Within five minutes I've bought her something nasty and pink with a cherry floating in it, and we're speaking tête-à-tête in a darkened corner. Her name is Lola. Seriously. I tell her my real name. It doesn't matter anyway, I'll compel her to forget later and she'll go home feeling incredibly satisfied and a bit low on iron.

Compulsion won't be needed any sooner though – this girl is obviously into me. She's already got her hand on my arm as she's talking and her pulse rate and aroused scent are screaming at me how easy this is gonna be.

I'm bored as hell, to be honest, so I decide not to waste any more time in this God-forsaken dive. Within five more minutes I have her pinned to the back of my hotel room door, my fingers are tangled in her hair and my tongue is halfway down her eager throat.

Now don't get me wrong here. I'm definitely not pretending that she's Elena. This is not some fantasy role-play thing going on for me right now. I'm fully aware that this girl is no-one special. For one thing, she doesn't smell right. For another, her touch doesn't make my skin burn. And her voice…well, let's just say that I intend to keep her mouth occupied so that I have to hear it as little as possible.

And keep her mouth occupied I do – except I don't even have to try. She's ready and willing to do that for me. She's down on her knees and unzipping my jeans before I even have time to pull her tiny top off. This girl is a minx. No complaints here. I close my eyes, lean my head back and let her do her thing with that hot, wet, enthusiastic little mouth of hers.

I try to concentrate solely on the delectable sensations she's creating all over my throbbing cock. The girl's got talent, I have to admit. So why do my drunken thoughts keep straying back to a certain other dark-haired girl? I mentally smack myself upside the head. _Salvatore, you are in the midst of a fucking amazing blow-job – why in God's name would you distract yourself from that with visions of a girl who will never give you any blow-jobs, amazing or otherwise? Focus!_

I decide to interrupt her ministrations and lift her up and spin her around so she's facing the bed, back against my chest. Within a few seconds her skimpy clothes are off in the corner somewhere behind me and she's bent over the bed, curvy ass raised invitingly.

Wasting no further time, I swiftly drive into her. My hands glide up her belly to cup her breasts and lift her up against me as I begin to thrust. It's better for me to not be able to see the face that isn't right, not be able to look into those brown eyes that aren't hers. As my hips move, my lust grows as does my hunger. I start to pound into her petite body harder as my desire builds. She's making such loud cries of pleasure right now that I swear I'm going to have to compel Mrs. Bates to forget any complaints about the disturbance in the morning.

When I begin to feel my climax approaching, I sweep her long hair to one side and let my vampire face come forward. I hold her securely against my chest with one hand and lean down to sink my now elongated canines into the back-side of her neck. She yells out, but it's a scream of passion. As you may already have guessed, I'm exceptionally good at this. I suck deeply on the twin wounds as we both violently shudder and come together.

It's been many months since I've had fresh, hot human blood pumped directly down my throat by a still-beating heart. Holy hell, I've missed this. There's no comparison to the satisfaction it brings. I let myself get lost in the blood – its coppery, slightly alcoholic tang and the thickness as it coats the inside of my mouth and throat. I can feel each throb of her heart vibrate through her blood and through me. It's like my dead heart is beating in sync with hers. Getting slower and slower. And slower.

Suddenly I pull back, but I'm too late. She falls limp in my arms.

Motherfucker. I did not mean to go that far. I absolutely did _not_ mean to kill this girl. Shit. But…the old Damon within me is laughing his ass off with glee. I feel more alive in this single moment than I have in almost a year. That's what fresh human blood does to a vampire. Sure, we can exist without it. But we absolutely thrive with it.

I pick her up in my arms and then tuck her into the right side of the bed, facing toward the wall. I fan her long, straight brown hair over the pillow and pull the floral sheet up to her shoulders, so she looks like she's sleeping. If I don't think about it too much, it would be so easy right now to pretend she was Elena there asleep in my bed.

I sigh in frustration. I'll deal with all this in the morning. I crawl in beside her and try to find sleep.


	3. Kinda I Want To

**A/N** Again I really feel the need to say a huge "Thank You" to all of you that favourite and alert my stories and leave me reviews. You have no idea how incredibly pleased these all make me! Knowing your opinion truly helps me be inspired to write more. If you've come this far, you already know this story is rated M and why. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Please let me know what you think. I try to reply to most of my reviews if I can!

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><p><strong>Chapter 3 – Kinda I Want To<strong>

"I can't shake this feeling from my head.  
>There's a devil sleeping in my bed.<br>Watching you from across the way,  
>I cannot make this feeling go away.<p>

I know it's not the right thing.  
>And I know it's not the good thing.<br>But kinda I want to.

I'm not sure of what I should do,  
>When every thought I'm thinking of is you.<br>All of my excuses turn to lies.  
>Maybe God will cover up his eyes.<p>

Why does it have to be this way?  
>Why does it have to be?<br>Why does it have to be this way?  
>Kinda I want to.<p>

Maybe just for tonight.  
>We can pretend it's all right.<br>What's the price I pay?  
>I don't care what they say.<br>I want to.  
>I want to. (I'll take my chance tonight)"<p>

- music & lyrics by Trent Reznor, Nine Inch Nails

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><p><strong>Damon's POV<strong>

Today should have been more relaxing.

Yesterday I spent a busy morning cleaning up the mess my own sheer fucking stupidity created the previous night. It's a bit ironic that I use the phrase "cleaning up the mess" as how I killed her was incredibly neat and what I had to do to her in the end was what was so messy.

I'd woken up in the dark hour before dawn and rolled over. My damned heart had felt like it literally squeezed in my chest when I saw the back of the dark-haired girl's head lying on the pillow beside me. From behind she had looked so much like Elena. Then I remembered my fuck-up of the evening before and I sighed.

I could have just buried her somewhere in the woods, but I know her friend saw me leave with her that night and I don't really want to become a suspect in a young girl's disappearance. Not sure if I've mentioned it, but I'm friends with Liz Forbes, who's the local sheriff. But friendship only goes so far when worried parents are breathing down your neck. Plus, to be honest, I kinda feel her family deserves some sort of closure. Yes, the old Damon scoffs at me for feeling regret or giving a shit if some random humans are in pain. But I can't help but think that I'd want to know if something happened to one of the very few people I care about.

I wouldn't say I feel remorse exactly for losing control the other night, but…OK, yes, there's a slight sense of guilt there. But, mostly I'm annoyed with myself for allowing it to happen when I didn't intend it to. Being in control is something I've always prided myself on. Until I met her and started to let myself _care_ about stuff, there was never any problem with that. So yes, I'm pissed at myself but a part of me is also pissed at Elena for doing this to me.

I'd found the girl's purse on the floor near the door and a set of keys inside. There were a few abandoned cars behind the deserted roadhouse and it didn't take me long to figure out that the tired, rusty-looking, silver Ford was hers.

Another thing I've always prided myself on is that I'm very neat with my victims and tend not to waste blood. I think I located only one tiny droplet on the bed sheet. But those two small, neat, puncture wounds in her neck screamed "Vampire", so unfortunately I had to tear her up a bit to make it look more like an animal attack. It was seriously repulsive to have to rip my teeth violently into her cold, stiff neck and shoulder and make a big mess of things. I felt a bit like Stefan, to be honest with you. It was fucking disgusting.

I left her now torn up body only about twenty or thirty feet from her car, back toward the bush that ran behind the place. Having redressed her before leaving my room, I made sure to pull her jeans and panties down to her knees so it looked like she drunkenly wandered over to the treeline to pee before leaving.

It was all I could do. I felt dirty in more ways than one, so I'd rushed back to my room to have a shower. I didn't leave the motel room for the rest of the day.

This morning I now lie atop the freshly changed bed – yes, I also made sure to get some clean sheets from Mrs. Bates – and sip my bourbon and think. In case you're wondering, I'm back on the vile, ice-packed blood I brought with me. In very small doses. So… same old, same old, right?

Not exactly.

* * *

><p><strong>Elena's POV<strong>

I'm not sure why I even went to school today. I _so_ don't want to be here. With a little assistance I did sleep straight through for the second night in a row, but today I am the sole definition of "spaced out". I can't concentrate on anything and don't think I've heard half the words my teachers or my friends have spoken to me so far. When Stefan asked me earlier if I was OK, I simply told him I was tired. I may have been snarky about it.

The lunch buzzer just went and I've decided I'm going to skip out and go home. I'm eighteen; I don't need anyone's permission to leave school any more.

As I weave my way across the busy parking lot to my car, I get the distinct feeling that I'm being watched. Not in the way of curious fellow students passing glances in my direction, but in the way of a creeping, burning sensation in my brain that tells me someone is focusing all their attention on me and me alone. It causes gooseflesh to rise along my arms and in the centre of my back. I twist my head around quickly but don't see anything out of the ordinary. Maybe I'm going nuts.

When I get back to my empty house, I go straight on up to my room. I head directly for my closet to drag out some yoga pants to change into and my eyes happen to fall on my rich blue Miss Mystic Falls pageant dress from last year hanging in the back. Seeing it reminds me instantly of Damon, of course, and suddenly another seething wall of anger hits me like a friggin' speeding freight train. I clench my fists so tightly at my sides that my fingernails dig deeply into my palms. It's weird – I feel the sharp cutting sensations of pain, but at the exact same time it almost feels far away, like it's someone else's hands being torn.

I force myself to focus past my rage for a minute and upturn one palm toward my face to discover a line of four small blood–filled crescents there. I heave a sigh and head into the bathroom I share with my brother to locate a tube of antiseptic ointment to apply to my eight little wounds.

When I step back into my bedroom, with only the thought of retrieving one of Jenna's old painkillers on my mind, he's here. Sitting there on my window seat with his dark hair all tousled, looking like the perfect pin-up boy that he is. Like he hasn't been gone for the last five days. Like he hasn't been avoiding me.

That wave of violent fury again explodes like fireworks in my brain. I'm not sure exactly why I'm so incredibly angry with him but let's just say it's a good thing there aren't any stakes nearby.

I stand perfectly still and glare at him, not sure what might come out of my mouth if I allow myself to speak. Almost perfectly still that is – my hands have started to shake uncontrollably.

He tilts his head to one side and raises an eyebrow at me. He even has the audacity to ask me if I'm OK. I don't answer.

Then he stands up and approaches me with a clear look of worry written all over his face. It's a frickin' good thing I'm not Bonnie or he'd have one _hell_ of a witchy migraine right now.

As his hand reaches out to touch mine, I suddenly find the urge to move again and I smack him – hard – right on his left cheek. It hurts my hand like crazy, but I don't flinch. His mouth falls open in shock and he grabs and pins my wrists in his strong fingers. His eyes narrow at me and he demands to know what's going on. Yes, "demands". Being bossy with me at this point only adds fuel to my ever growing flames.

I've also found that my voice has returned and I start to yell. And to struggle. He holds me still anyway. I'm shouting at him for disappearing. For not saying goodbye. For not returning my calls or my texts. For worrying me. For leaving me. For making me need him so goddamn much. At that last part I burst into tears.

He pulls me against him and wraps his arms around me, holding me so tightly to him that I can barely breathe. Or maybe it's my desperate sobs that are making it so difficult for me to breathe. I'm gasping and crying and making a real mess of both my face and the shoulder of his shirt. His hands are rubbing circles on my back and he's actually making soft shushing sounds in my ear. Really. Damon Salvatore is soothing me like a parent would their distraught child. Who would have thought? It makes me weep even harder.

This is the first time he's ever held me. I've hugged him a couple of times in the past when he was upset, but he's never hugged me back. Never. As I force my focus to his fingers tracing patterns along my spine, I find myself finally beginning to relax. Also, he smells _really_ good. The light scent of his cologne is one I've never smelled before on any other guy and it's very…enticing. To me, it's very Damon. I inhale long, deep breaths and feel my mind calm further.

I don't pull away. He doesn't let me go.

My so-called boyfriend is the furthest thing from my mind.

* * *

><p><strong>Damon's POV<strong>

I don't know how I managed to convince myself that I needed to see her face to face today.

It started off late this morning with me trying to read and trying to relax, already half way to drunk for the day. And all the way to bored. I was trying not to think about her and failing miserably of course, but what else is new? I happened to glance over at my cell phone lying abandoned on the table.

I'd have to say my first mistake today was picking up that fucking phone and letting myself read the last few text messages she'd sent me. They were from the day before yesterday. My goddamn heart strings started snapping, one by one, as I read:

_Where are you?_

_Why did you leave?_

_I miss you, Damon._

_What did I do to make you leave?_

_I really miss you so much right now. Why aren't you here?_

Those were just the most recent ones. I managed to stop my nosey fingers before they scrolled back further and I quickly snapped the phone shut.

In hindsight, I should have just tossed that motherfucker out the window of my speeding Camaro before I ever even checked in.

I didn't know what happened that night to inspire her to send those texts, but I suddenly really needed to go see if she was all right. I told you I was pathetic.

So, earlier I went to her school and from a distance noticed her making a bee-line for her car over the lunch break. She drove home. Which was odd. Like the little lost puppy that I am around this girl, I followed her. That was mistake number two.

* * *

><p>When she steps into her bedroom and sees me sitting there waiting for her, the first thing I notice is that she's bleeding. Just a little and very recent. I'm about to ask her what happened, when she shoots me the most pissed off look I honestly think I've ever gotten from her – and believe me, I've been the recipient of some doozys. She's positively radiating rage from her every pore right now.<p>

I ask her if she's OK and she doesn't answer so I get up and take a step toward her. Me ignoring her recent texts and calls should not be important enough to elicit this degree of fury. I'm not sure why she's glaring daggers at me and I'm definitely concerned that I've done something else to raise her ire to such a level, but right now I have no idea what. Usually I know exactly why.

Her inner psycho-bitch takes over and she gives me one hell of a smack in the face. What the fuck? OK, now worry is rapidly edging over into pissed-off territory. I take a deep breath to calm myself before I grab her slender wrists and hold them still to prevent any more violence against me. I insist she tell me what the flying fuck is going on. I may have asked more nicely than that. Maybe.

Suddenly she breaks her frosty Ice Queen silence and starts yelling at me as she struggles to pull her wrists free from my grasp. I'm stunned for a moment as I slowly begin to realize why she's so angry with me. She thinks I deserted her. She's been worried. And then she says something else and promptly bursts into tears.

It sounds like, "Why do I have to need you so goddamn much?" But I guess my vampire hearing is faulty today or something, because there's no fucking way that's actually what she said.

I can't deal with Elena's tears. Never have been able to and probably never will. Each sob stabs my heart like a tiny wooden stake. I crush her slight body against my own, encasing her snuggly in my arms and letting her gasp and cry against my chest while I rub her back. After a while, her breathing begins to even out and she calms down. But she doesn't pull away. And, God help me, neither do I.

This is mistake number three.

I can feel her hot breath against my neck and it's driving me to distraction right now. I wonder if she's noticed the hard bulge in my jeans that's currently pressing against her belly button. Like fuck, she hasn't. But she still doesn't let me go.

I nearly lose my mind when her soft lips begin kissing a slow trail up my throat, eliciting a low rumbling groan from me that almost resembles a purr. If she's trying to torture me, she's wholeheartedly succeeding on every front. I'm rapidly turning to putty beneath her touch.

She works her way up to my chin and finally to my lips and I surrender, because, really, what else can I do? This is what I've wanted since the second I met this girl. I open my mouth and kiss her like some long lost lover I haven't seen in years. There's so much passion and need, love and desperation, so much soul-consuming fucking heat between us in that kiss that it feels fragile - like a filament of spider's silk; like it could evaporate into nothingness at any moment.

This is mistake number four. Or possibly five. I think I've lost count.

Stefan's face doesn't enter my mind. Not once. Right now, it's just Elena. Always Elena. She and I. Me and her. I've never wanted anything the way I want this girl. I've never loved anyone the way I love her. And, fuck the consequences, right now is about us and us only.


	4. The Only Time

**A/N** Thank you for all your reviews and favourites and story alerts! I love reading what you think of this story. This chapter earns its M rating. Angst-arama. Let me know what you think? Thanks!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4 - The Only Time<strong>

"I'm drunk,  
>And right now I'm so in love with you.<br>And I don't want to think too much about what we should or shouldn't do.  
>Lay my hands on Heaven and the sun and the moon and the stars,<br>While the devil wants to fuck me in the back of his car.

Nothing quite like the feel of something new.

Maybe I'm all messed up.  
>Maybe I'm all messed up.<br>Maybe I'm all messed up in you.  
>Maybe I'm all messed up.<br>Maybe I'm all messed up.  
>Maybe I'm all messed up.<br>Maybe I'm all messed up in you.  
>Maybe I'm all messed up.<p>

This is the only time I really feel alive.  
>This is the only time I really feel alive.<p>

I swear,

I just found everything I need.  
>The sweat in your eyes the blood in your veins are listening to me.<br>Well I want to wrap it up and swim in it until I drown.  
>My moral standing is lying down."<p>

- music & lyrics by Trent Reznor, Nine Inch Nails

* * *

><p><strong>Elena's POV<strong>

I hate who I've turned into. I hate him even more for turning me into her.

Feigning a bout of 'the flu', I haven't been to school for the past two days. All day yesterday and so far today I've mostly stayed in my bed, curled up in a tight little ball.

I've either been sleeping, floating in a hazy fog or so pissed off I can barely see straight. I've been gritting my teeth – hard - and my jaw aches. My palms are cross-crossed with little crescent shaped marks from digging in my nails over and over. I don't even notice the pain any more when I press them into my flesh, just the little trickles of blood down my wrists sometimes when I happen to look down. Like right now, for instance. At some point I'm gonna have to get up and change these messy, blood-spotted sheets.

At that thought, I groan. And think about another reason why I really ought to change these filthy sheets. Really. I've gotta do it. Before Stefan pays a surprise visit to my room and knows. And he _will_ show up. And if I don't, he _will_ know.

So I haul my ass out of bed and, like some sort of zombie Molly Maid, I sloppily change the bed-sheets. I stuff the old ones into a plastic garbage bag and leave them with the rest of the trash to go out.

I frown. I should really have a shower, too. It's been two days and I probably smell like shit. I heave an exasperated sigh. No 'probably' about it – I know I stink. I _so_ don't want to have a goddamn shower right now. I just want to go back and hide under my fresh sheets some more. But if Stefan comes…

Gritting my teeth again, I drag my sorry behind into the bathroom and strip off my dirty pajamas. My palms throb. I catch a glance of myself in the mirror. The bruises still show, but they seem a little bit less today. That might just be wishful thinking. The twin fang marks on my left boob are not as red as they were yesterday. They will leave permanent scars. Is it wrong that I don't care? I should care, right? There's a second set to match them high up on my inner right thigh. Battle scars. Love bites. Whatever. They're mine forever, now. My subconscious fires up a thought that I quickly shove back down. _He's mine forever, now, too._

I guess this means I can only have sex with Stefan in the dark from now on. I'm remarkably OK with that. Having sex with my boyfriend is pretty damn low on my priority list right now anyway, but I suspect it's probably a tad higher on his.

I deserve to hurt more than I actually do. An ever-growing part of me relishes each sting because it means I'm still capable of feeling. Mentally, when I'm alert all I feel is guilt and pain any more, but physically a lot of the time now I'm pretty numb.

After the world's longest shower – the feeling of the hot spray on my back was heavenly; on my front it smarted like a bitch – I emerge from the bathroom with just a towel wrapped around me. I head straight to the bottom drawer of my dresser and Jenna's pill stash. Correction – Elena's pill stash, now. I pull out the bottle of Vicodin. It helped with the pain yesterday and the side effects were rather euphoric. No more hurt or anger or guilt or worry or hate. Just bliss and nothingness. Hooray for side effects. I pop one into my mouth, climb onto my bed and squeeze my eyes closed, praying for escape from my thoughts.

* * *

><p>I'm awakened who knows how much later by the feeling of someone's weight sinking onto the mattress. I don't open my eyes. I inhale. His cologne. I'm too stoned to care right now.<p>

He touches the side of my face and softly asks me why I'm crying. I haven't been crying, so I don't answer. I don't know what he's talking about. Then I concentrate and realize my cheeks are tacky and damp. I've been crying? How could I not notice that?

So I slowly force my stubborn and sticky eyelids to creak open and am greeted by a worried pair of crystal blue eyes staring back at me. I'd really like to be angry right now, but I just can't find the energy. Being angry at Damon takes a lot of effort. Can't be bothered to make effort right now.

He strokes my hair and down along my arm and asks me if I'm OK. The cool touch of his fingers is soothing against my sweaty skin. I manage a nod. He tells me I don't look too OK. He whispers that he's sorry, so sorry. I struggle to speak and find words enough to tell him to go and he does, but not before I notice the saddest expression on his beautiful face. But I just don't have the energy to care about that, either.

* * *

><p><strong>Damon's POV<strong>

You know how sometimes you have a moment that you continually fantasize about? You build it up so high and so amazing in your mind that if it ever happened in reality it could never hope to live up to your colossal expectations?

Yeah, that's not what happened. It was everything I'd ever dreamed of and so much more. Beyond amazing. Fantastic. Earth-shattering. There simply aren't adequate words.

And it utterly broke her. It broke me, too.

Let me backtrack a bit for you.

When she kissed me the other night, I lost my fucking mind. Literally – it left my head and splattered itself all over the wall.

I didn't know who this girl was whose mouth was devouring my own so intently, whose fingers were knotting themselves into my hair and whose tits were pressed so firmly up against my chest, but it definitely was _not_ Elena. The Elena I knew would never willingly put herself in this position. So, I assumed I was dreaming. I kept waiting to wake up, but sure as hell intending to enjoy the ride before I did.

Remember how I told you that if she and I ever got together the heat would be so intense that we might actually catch fire? I was right about that. No matter how goddamn much I love her, I know what we did the other day was not making love. It was fucking, plain and simple. I tried to keep things sweet and tender at the beginning, but she didn't want sweet. She didn't want tender. She wanted hard and fast, rough and dirty. She wanted passionate-as-all-hell. She wanted me to make her _feel_ - physically feel – so that she didn't have to mentally feel. And who am I to deny her what she wants?

When she asked me to bite her, my thoughts flashed to a few nights ago in the motel room and I flat out refused. I knew she'd never been bitten during sex before. My brother is a blood-addict – he would never dare to take such a risk. But if you know Elena, you know how insistent she can be. Have I mentioned yet that I can't seem to refuse her?

We hadn't even gotten to the main event. I was kissing and suckling her gorgeously firm breasts and drawing out these lovely little gasps and moans from her lips, when her fingers in my hair suddenly yanked hard and I opened my eyes to meet hers with a questioning look.

"Bite me,' she whispered and my cock grew even fucking harder than I'd thought possible. And she wouldn't take no for an answer. My right hand found its way down between her thighs and I began rubbing circles over her clit with my thumb as two fingers started working their way in and out of her centre. I pinched and twisted one small hard nipple with my free hand while my lips continued their assault on the other one. When I heard her breathing began to change as her first orgasm drew closer, I let my fangs elongate and I bit down, just above that delicious little nub still in my mouth.

Her reaction was instantaneous. She cried out and came so hard I worried she might pass out for a minute there. I didn't take much blood, really only about a mouthful, but holy shit if it wasn't the sweetest goddamn thing I've ever tasted.

I don't mean to brag – well yes, actually I do – but as I've mentioned before, I know exactly how to please a woman. She told to make her feel, and make her feel I did. Six times to be exact. Yes, I counted.

The second time I bit her, while settled between her luscious thighs doing what I do best, it begat orgasm number three. Four, five and six came later. See what I did there?

She was a bossy little thing and she told me exactly what she wanted and how she wanted it. Of course, being her own personal sex slave, I did as I was told. She wanted to be fucked and she wanted it hard and rough and dirty. She definitely picked the right man for the job. Part of me regretted that our first time wouldn't be tender and loving the way I'd have preferred, but who am I to argue when Elena is demanding that I fuck her?

Being inside her was…indescribable. We fit together more perfectly than jigsaw puzzle pieces. It was so right. It felt like coming home. That's all I can come up with. Remember how I said my brain was splattered against the wall from her kisses? Yeah, well, that - times a million.

When I finally reached my own climax, I think perhaps I did black out. Because I don't recall too much of that moment. I wish I did. The best analogy I can come up with is that this girl is like heroin to me and in that moment I overdosed. Sounds like hyperbole, right? I swear, it's not.

The next thing I remember, I was lying on the bed beside her. She was curled up with her back to me. I noticed that her shoulders were shaking, but she wasn't making any sounds. Reaching over, I pulled back on her arm so that I could see her face. It was streaming with tears.

My fucking heart broke. I think I may have actually felt it crack. Gruffly, she asked me to leave and I didn't argue.

* * *

><p>That was two days ago.<p>

Until this afternoon I did not leave the motel room. Remember when I told you I could keep completely still for hours on end? Well, that's exactly what I did. I turned my brain off, too. It's a bit like going to sleep, and I probably did drift in and out of sleep while in that state. I lay on the bed completely shut down for almost 48 hours.

About an hour ago I got up, forced down half a glass of disgusting cold, congealed blood and returned to her. No matter how fucking hard I try, I can't seem to stay away for long.

When I left her room last she was curled up on her side, with tears streaming down her face. As I slip through her window now and approach the girl on the bed, I note that she's in almost exactly the same position and there are drying tear tracks on her flushed cheeks. She looks like a small child, with her knees pulled up against her chest like that. I catch the scent of blood again and know she has recent wounds somewhere on her body.

I can't help it – I reach out to touch her damp cheek and I ask her why she's crying. She doesn't answer. A few moments later she cracks open her eyes to meet mine. There's very little life in those eyes. She stares blankly at me.

I slide my hand into her hair and stroke along the length of it and down her arm. She's sweating and she flinches at my touch. I ask if she's OK and she gives me a barely perceptible nod. I tell her that she doesn't look too OK to me.

Looking at her expressionless tear-stained face, my heart breaks some more. I can't stand to see Elena like this. Inside I know she must be drowning in guilt, just as I am. This is all my fault. I softly tell her that I'm sorry, so very, very sorry.

Once again, she tells me to go. I can feel my own eyes starting to fill up, so I quickly do as she asks. Like I always do.


	5. That's What I Get

**A/N **I just want to clarify that I wrote the 1st chapter of this story and gave it the title "Under My Skin", sometime in late January. It is purely a lovely and welcome coincidence that was how Elena referred to Damon when speaking with Matt in "1912" last night. Maybe Julie Plec reads my fanfic. Yeah, right. **  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5 – That's What I Get<strong>

"Just when everything was making sense,  
>You took away all my self-confidence.<br>Now all that I've been hearing must be true.  
>I guess I'm not the only boy for you.<p>

But that's what I get  
>That's what I get<br>That's what I get  
>That's what I get<p>

How could you turn me into this?  
>After you just taught me how to kiss you?<br>I told you I'd never say goodbye.  
>Now I'm slipping on the tears you made me cry.<p>

Why does it come as a surprise  
>To think that I was so naïve?<br>Maybe didn't mean that much,  
>But it meant everything to me."<p>

- music & lyrics by Trent Reznor, Nine Inch Nails

* * *

><p><strong>Elena's POV<strong>

I think it's Saturday today. Stefan called this morning. I'm running out of excuses so I agreed he could come over for a visit this evening to see 'sick' little old me. Saying I don't want to see him right now is a bit of an understatement, but he's been insistent and I can't be bothered to come up with more reasons for him not to.

I know I'm gonna have to lie to his face when he gets here. It's just another thing, to add to all the other things. So much guilt. You know, I hardly ever even catch myself thinking about Stefan any more, other than the annoyance of dealing with his persistent checking up on me. What does that say about me? Do I still love him? I contemplate that for a moment. He's so sweet and handsome and he dotes on me and I know he loves me….and…and? That's all I can come up with. So why am I treating him like shit? Not that I think he knows that's how I've been treating him. But I know. He deserves so much better than me. He saved my goddamn life for Christ's sake. More than once. I owe him so much better than this.

I guess maybe I should really break up with him. But if I break up with him, then I'll have no more excuses for facing the other huge problem I have.

Damon hasn't been back in a couple of days. I don't know how many. Maybe it's only been one. I'm not entirely sure. The good news is that at least I don't feel angry today. Yet. That's something. I'm just so tired.

I stumble into the bathroom to have a quick shower. When I step out and reach for the towel, I pause to take in my reflection again. The bruises on my hips are less stark against my olive skin and they're beginning to yellow now. I reach my hand up to touch the twin bite marks above my nipple. They will never be completely gone, but they're healing, too. Digging my fingernails in, I roughly tear off the two small scabs to make them bleed afresh. It stings and I grimace. That's better. This calls up a flash of memory of how they got there and I feel a slight tingle down below. I smile slightly at the thought. It hurts, but it hurts in a good way. I deserve to hurt.

I towel off, apply a bandage to my breast, take a Vicodin and dress quickly. By the time I button up my shirt and turn away from the closet, my boyfriend is standing in the doorway to my room, his forearms braced on each side. I feel my whole body tense up at the sight of him and pray that he doesn't notice. He gives me a genuine smile and steps forward, eager to take me in his arms.

He starts to tell me how glad he is that I'm feeling better, but he stops himself before he finishes the sentence to ask me why I'm bleeding. Damn vampires and their creepy sense of smell. I lie and say I cut myself shaving. That's my first lie to his face today. Luckily, he doesn't press the issue.

We talk for a bit, or at least Stefan does. I mostly listen. Kinda. Then he tries to get romantic. I'm not sure how capable I am right now of faking this. I begin to feel the first wave of bliss from the drug start to kick in, though. So, instead of pushing him away, I let him kiss me. I just go with it. I can't be bothered to protest.

When he starts to unbutton my top, I reach over and turn out the light. I can do this. I can. As long as it's dark, I can do this. I can be a better girlfriend. I owe him this much.

He doesn't ask why there's a freshly bandaged wound on my breast, even though I just told him I nicked myself while shaving and why would I be shaving my boob exactly? Thank God he doesn't say a word. Not talking is exactly what I want right now. Not seeing and not talking. I close my eyes and let him do to me what he wants.

For a while I try to pretend that it's a different pair of hands, a different pair of lips. But I can't. There's no comparison.

I've never faked passion or a climax before in my life. I wasn't sure I even could. Turns out I can. Apparently pleasure is easier to fake if you're artificially happy. If he notices my acting, he doesn't say anything. After, I feign sleep and he snuggles up beside me. I wish he would go home, but right now I cannot ask him to.

I ride out the numbing euphoria for as long as I can. I thought doing this would relieve some of my guilt, but strangely it only adds more.

* * *

><p><strong>Damon's POV<strong>

I've finished all the books I brought with me. I've drunk all the bourbon – yesterday actually - making me far too fucking sober today by a long shot. I'm also now out of blood.

Which means I need to make a little visit back to the boarding house. So…this oughta be fun. I roll my eyes. Maybe Stefan won't be there. I can only hope.

Somehow, I luck out and he's not home. I head directly for my room and my own shower. I catch almost no trace of Elena's scent as I pass through the house. She obviously hasn't been over for a while. Interesting.

When I exit my bathroom freshly clean and marginally happier for it, I glance at my bed. I've really been missing both my shower and my incredibly comfortable bed. Hmm. I wonder how long he'll be gone for. I then wonder if he's with her. Of course he is. Where else would he be?

A wave of jealousy passes through me, even though I'm well aware I have no right to feel it. She's not mine. I need to keep telling myself this. But…in some way now it also sorta feels like she is. For that brief moment in time she was. I honestly don't think Elena will ever _truly_ be mine. Not in any real way. But I'm pretty sure I'm fucked forever at this point. Because I will always be hers.

You know that very long list of stupid, impulsive decisions that I've made? Well yesterday evening after I left the boarding house I added yet another thing to it. Why? Because I'm a fucking idiot, that's why. Or maybe I just really like having my heart repeatedly crushed. Who the hell knows?

Before heading back to the motel, I'd stopped in the study to gather up some more bottles to bring with me. And I may have emptied a full one before leaving. And I may have somehow convinced myself to stop by her place on the way. Just to check in and see how she was doing. That's all.

So…yeah. Not my brightest idea. Know what I found?

Can you fucking guess?

Oh, my brother was with her, all right. In her room. In her goddamn bed. I paused outside the window for a few seconds to make sure I was hearing what I thought I was hearing. Then I could not get myself the fuck away from there fast enough.

There are times when I miss being human more than anything. It's always been one of my biggest secrets. But this was not one of those times. Sure, my throat closed up and my eyes got hot and I _may_ have had to fight back some jealous, pissed-off, possessive dampness gathering there. Maybe.

But I'm a fucking vampire. I don't need this emotional bullshit right now or any other time. So I went back to the motel room and I shut down again. But not before finally tossing that motherfucking phone out the window like I should have a week ago.

So, right now I'm drinking yet another glass of the expensive bourbon I brought back with me and wondering why the hell I'm bothering. Why am I even still here, almost but not quite in Mystic Falls? What the fuck is keeping me around at this point? I can't come up with a single valid reason to stay.

I may not be able to ever fully get over this girl, but I know I can distract and cloud my mind enough to forget for a while. I can get back to being a goddamn vampire, which has always been something I've excelled at.

I begin to gather up the bottles and clothing and books I've got with me. Everything left behind at the boarding house can stay there. At least for now. I can always ask Stefan to pack things up later and send them to wherever I end up. He'll be absolutely fucking thrilled that I'm finally getting out of his hair indefinitely.

As I'm just about to head out to my car, I realize someone is standing right outside my door. It doesn't take me long to recognize the breathing and the heartbeat, which is currently fluttering rapidly. Fucking hell - how in God's name did she find me here? I clench my fists so tightly I almost tear right through the handle of my satchel. I wait her out until eventually I hear a light rap on the door.

* * *

><p><strong>Elena's POV<strong>

This morning I woke up feeling like something scraped off the bottom of a shoe. My mouth was parched and my head was pounding. It felt suspiciously like a hangover. Oh, wait.

Yeah. At some point last night Stefan went home. I don't really remember any conversation about it. I think maybe he just got up and went. After he left, I forced myself out of bed on shaky legs and made my way down to the kitchen. I was the only one awake. I remember finding an opened bottle of wine in the fridge, and, foregoing the snack I'd been seeking, I took it back upstairs with me.

I loathed myself for what I had done. For what I was still doing. To both of them. I don't know how or when it began exactly, but it seemed like I was turning into Katherine after all. Even though I swore with my entire being that would never ever happen, somehow it happened anyway. I had become the very worst kind of person – taking advantage of the love these two men felt for me. What I did this week was far worse than unfair. It was unforgivable. What was happening to me? I took a Valium and drank the wine.

So now it's Sunday. I've brushed my teeth and my hair and am debating the merits of going downstairs to fix myself a strong cup of black coffee, when my phone rings. My heart leaps in my chest and the first person I think of as I grab it is Damon.

It's Matt. After checking in to see if I'm feeling better yet, he happens to mention that he saw Damon's car this morning. Parked in front of the Bates Motel just outside of town on Route 3. I store this information away and patiently listen to him grumble about his mounds of homework and his crappy job at the Grill for a while. He's a sweet guy, Matt. I'm so glad we're still such close friends. I genuinely hope he meets a nice girl soon - one who will treat him the way he deserves.

Someone who's completely different from me.

I slip my phone into my purse, along with the bottle of Vicodin that's now taken up residence in my nightstand drawer, and head downstairs to make that aforementioned coffee. The kitchen is deserted, thank God, so I don't have to make any small talk. I pop one small pill into my mouth with a sip from my travel mug and head out to my car. When I'm not buzzed, all I feel is sorrow or anger and guilt. So very much guilt. It consumes me. A little happiness will help me get through today. And I tell myself that if I can get through today, I can get through tomorrow. And so on. Right now this is the only plan I've got.

I've just pulled up in front of the motel. It seems pretty low-brow for Damon's tastes. But, sure enough, his unmistakable classic blue Camaro is parked there in front of room 6. I sit in my car for a while, wondering why he's here. And trying to figure out why exactly I want to see him.

I decide to take my chances on number 6 being the correct door. I listen first, before I knock. I mean, what if he has a girl in there? Ooh, there's that old familiar anger trying to fight its way up through the haze again! I push it back down. Damon can fuck whomever he damn well pleases. It's none of my business what he does or who he does it with. And I intend to just keep trying to convince myself of that.

I take a deep breath, steel myself and knock softly on the door. I'll admit a part of me is hoping he's not there.

When he pulls open the door with an exasperated look on his face, his suitcase in hand, clearly annoyed by the interruption, I gasp. My smile falters as I take in the look on his face. Gone are the tender expressions of caring and concern. Those clear blue eyes look ice cold. And pissed off.

My breath catches in my throat. For the first time ever, he makes me feel an inkling of fear deep in the pit of my stomach. And even the Vicodin bliss can't completely tamper that down.

* * *

><p><strong>AN** _I know some of you might not like this chapter, but I hope you can at least try to understand the reasons why she does the things she does. Don't worry, it will all come to a head soon enough. Please don't give up on this story. If it's really bugging you, might I suggest reading one of my other stories, such as "What Was Lost"? It's my 'baby' right now and way less dark. Thank you for reading & being patient with me!_


	6. Sin

**Chapter 6 – Sin**

"You give me the anger.  
>You give me the nerve.<br>Carry out my sentence,  
>While I get what I deserve.<br>I'm just an effigy to be disgraced,  
>To be defaced.<br>Your need for me has been replaced.  
>And if I can't have everything, well then just give me a taste.<p>

It comes down to this.  
>Your kiss,<br>Your fist,  
>And your strain - it gets under my skin.<br>Within.  
>Take in the extent of my sin."<p>

- music & lyrics by Trent Reznor, Nine Inch Nails

* * *

><p><strong>Damon's POV<strong>

I don't fucking believe it. She has a lot of goddamn nerve showing up at my door. And how the hell did she even know I was here, anyway?

Elena must notice the fury in my eyes at the sight of her, because just for a second I see something I've never seen on her face before. A small flicker of fear flashes through those beautiful brown eyes. I despise the awful way _that_ makes me feel. I flick my eyes closed for a second and remind myself again why I'm so fed up with this entire fucking situation.

I tighten my jaw and tersely ask her why the fuck she's here. Her eyes widen at my tone as she falters for some sort of reply. I think she says she doesn't know. I'm not really listening anyway. I will _not_ get sucked back into this. I will not. Famous last words, huh?

I tell her I'm on my way out, making it pretty fucking clear that her presence is not wanted here. Pushing past, I head to my car, throw the bag on the passenger seat and climb in.

She's just staring at me through the windshield with her mouth partially open in surprise. Then she gets that goddamn defiant look on her face that I both love and hate with equal measure, and she turns and walks into my room, leaving the door wide open in her wake. I wait with curiosity for a bit to see what she'll do, but she doesn't come out.

I linger there for a while longer, tapping out a quick rhythm with my thumbs along the top of my steering wheel and grinding my teeth together. You probably already know what's coming next, don't you? She obviously does. She knows exactly how to play me like a fucking violin concerto. I heave a huge sigh and get out of my car.

When I step back through the door of the room, she's just sitting there on the end of the bed, staring into space. She glances towards me and I narrow my eyes at her. How the hell did I not notice that before? She looks buzzed out of her gourd. What in the fuck? Has she been compelled? She's still ingesting her daily vervain, isn't she? I can't help it; my thoughts flick to yesterday and to my brother. Could he have found out? Would he have done this?

Don't get me wrong – I'm still pissed off. I'm just not entirely sure who I'm most pissed off with right now. Both of them? All three of us? But, at the moment there are more important things to consider first.

I sit calmly down beside her on the bed and reach to take both her hands in mine. She startles at my touch and turns her head slightly to focus on me. She doesn't seem frightened anymore, thank goodness. But she definitely seems a bit lost. Her pupils are dilated. I don't know how the hell I missed that when I first opened the door and saw her standing there.

I ask her if she's still taking her vervain. She flashes me a quizzical look and nods. I remember that insolent expression on her face just before she pivoted on her heels and walked into this room a few minutes ago. OK, so she's not under compulsion. I'm relieved for a moment before it's replaced with the realization that she's obviously stoned.

Turning over her hands so her palms are up, I take in all these criss-crossing little red crescent-shaped wounds. All my residual anger dissipates and I frown deeply as a crushing cloud of guilt envelops me. This is because of me. Because of us. I glance back up to meet her eyes and quietly ask her what's going on. She looks confused - she just shrugs and attempts a smile. It doesn't reach her eyes though.

I'm just about to ask her another question when she leans in and presses her lips against mine. Which, of course, stops my brain dead in its tracks. I can't believe she's using a goddamn distraction technique like this on me! Me - the king of such things! But it's working. She knew it would. There was never any doubt I'd kiss her back.

This time our kiss is much more chaste. Her strawberry lip balm-flavoured lips move softly against my own but the passion of before isn't there. This is, perhaps, a good thing at the moment. It enables me to re-gather my thoughts so that I can pull my face back from hers.

Her confused expression returns. More firmly I ask her what she's done. As I speak I trace my fingers over her damp palms and she flinches and tries to pull her small hands out of mine. I hold them tighter. Her heartbeat begins to pick up and she curls her fingers, making tight little fists in my hands, and tells me it's nothing. Like fuck, it's nothing. I decide to attempt a different approach and ask her what she's on.

Her eyes flicker and I know she realizes exactly what I'm talking about. She doesn't answer but that flicker alone tells me what I need to know. So, at vamp speed I grab her purse and unceremoniously dump it out onto the middle of the bed beside me. Seizing the bottle of Vicodin among the contents, I notice Jenna's name on the label. The prescription is more than a year old. I hold it up in front of Elena and force her to meet my eyes. She looks uncomfortable and ashamed and I'm glad to see it. There's more than just this she should be ashamed of.

I speak only one word, "Why?"

She whispers, "To take away the pain."

Her response makes me feel like the worst piece of shit on the planet. I should have stayed away. I should have had more self-control. I shouldn't have hurt her, no matter what she asked me to do. I should have said no.

I wish I could take it all back. All of her pain is my fault.

* * *

><p><strong>Elena's POV<strong>

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that Damon and I, alone together on a bed in a motel room where no-one else knew where we were, is a situation that would definitely end up leading to sex, right?

Especially because that seems to be the one thing I still keep on doing with both of these brothers - other than hurting them, that is.

And you're not wrong.

He took my bottle of pain pills. He wouldn't give it back either. Stupid me for putting them in my purse in the first place. He doesn't know about the rest of the stash hidden in my room though, so it didn't bother me all that much.

The strong emotions that the Vicodin was burying in me this afternoon didn't stay masked for anywhere near as long as I would've liked. The look on his face triggered them right back up again and this time I didn't even attempt to push them back down. That expression seemed so familiar to me but I couldn't quite place where I'd seen it before. He looked devastated. Like I'd broken his heart into a million pieces. Which I honestly didn't really understand, at first.

And then suddenly I did. And I knew I had to fix it somehow. He was accepting the blame for my pain. He was taking on all my guilt and adding it to his own and I couldn't allow him to continue to do that. It wasn't fair. I hadn't been being fair to him for a long time now. And it needed to stop.

I put both hands on either side of his face and told him no. That this was not his fault, it was mine and mine only. That he only did what I asked him to. That I wanted to feel pain. That I deserved it. And then I did something that I should have done days ago. I apologized.

There wasn't a huge purge of emotions between us like you might think. I didn't bring up the weight of all the guilt that I struggle with daily like Atlas with the whole world on my shoulders and he didn't mention his own, which I knew was consuming him in much the same manner. He just told me I didn't deserve any of this. Which wasn't true, but I let it go.

My palms on his face slid around his neck and he allowed me to pull him tightly against me. Eventually I felt his arms come up around my back and somehow we ended up lying down together on that bed, holding onto each other and deliberately not speaking. I don't know how long we lay there like that, clutched so tightly in each other's arms. I wanted so desperately to tell him how much I loved him, but I didn't. He didn't say it either, but I knew. I guess I just assumed he knew how I felt, too. Yet another thing I was wrong about.

At some point I dozed off with my head resting on his shoulder. And I had a dream. Yes, one of _those_ kind of dreams. It must have been highly amusing for him to hear my body's response to it. When my consciousness came back to reality and I remembered where I was and why, it was hard to know where the dream ended and real life began. My heart was pounding, my whole body felt flushed and I was definitely more than a little turned on. I could just picture the smirk on his face. His fingers were softly stroking my hair and just that light touch of his hands moving on me felt really…sensual.

I couldn't help myself. I began to kiss the soft skin of his neck that was below my lips. It was warm from the press of my own hot skin for so long and he felt entirely human to me in that moment. The gentle movement of his hands instantly stilled on my back and I curved my lips into a small smile as I felt his reaction to my kiss begin to press insistently against my belly.

But he pulled away from me and told me quite firmly that I needed to stop. To stop playing these games with him. And then he said something to me that chilled my soul and washed away every last bit of residual sleep or Vicodin bliss which may have been remaining. He said he'd overheard Stefan and I the day before. That cold and bitter tone had crept back into his voice again and I hated it. I was mortified to my very core that he'd heard us. All I wanted to do in that moment was to be able to reach inside him and scoop all his pain away. Screw my own pain – I had earned it and so much more – but Damon did not. His suffering was all my fault.

* * *

><p><strong>Damon's POV<strong>

One thing I most definitely do not want from Elena Gilbert, or anyone else for that matter, is pity. And the look on her face when I told her that I heard her with my brother was the very fucking epitome of pity. It made my goddamn stomach turn. She could take her _sympathy_ for me and cram it where the sun don't shine.

I pushed myself away from her and got up off the bed. A cascade of complex emotions was tumbling rapidly through my brain like lottery balls. I was seething - yes, completely fucking pissed off with how she's been taking advantage of my feelings for her. How she's been manipulating me. And how I've allowed it to happen. But I was also greatly worried about her current mental state – the obvious self-harm she's been doing with both the self-inflicted wounds and the drugs to escape. There were also splashes of sadness and regret and self-pity and guilt swirling up in there, too. And lust. And love, always that constant goddamn love for her like the motherfucking current flowing under it all.

So I stood there at the side of the bed staring at her and clenching and unclenching my fists, waiting to see which one was going to come out the victor in this internal battle.

All my money would have been on rage for the win. I bet yours would be, too. I'd have surprised us both, though.

She was staring at me, still with that pitying look on her face and I just fucking _knew_ tears weren't far away. And you and I both know what happens to me when she cries. I turn into a total pansy-ass, right? And I just give in to whatever she wants.

So I managed, somehow, to push down the anger and the self-pity and even the worry, although I still knew something needed to be done about that situation before it got further out of hand.

I shoved them all away until there was nothing left. I then calmly told her that I just couldn't do this anymore. I quickly stepped into my discarded boots and walked out that door before the waterworks started and I got vacuumed right back in.

I thought, just for one moment there, that I had actually succeeded. That this time I would really be able to do it. Really be able to walk away from her. And if it wasn't for my enhanced hearing I truly think I might have been able to, you know?

I'm a goddamn fool, though. I paused before I turned the key in the ignition and I let myself listen. And I heard her voice ever so softly from inside the room. She whispered "I love you" into the empty air.

And I fucking lost it again.

In a split second I was back in that room, the door slammed shut, my boots kicked blindly into the corner and she was in my arms and lip-locked to me once more. Where she belonged. Where I belonged. And it was all finished for me in that instant. I would never be able to leave this girl again. The war was over and we were both the losers.

It didn't matter though.

Elena'd said she loved me and there was nothing else in the entire fucking world I cared about in that moment.

* * *

><p><strong>AN** _Hope you guys like this chapter a bit better. I know many of you have been unhappy with Elena in this story so far. But, that's good. You're supposed to be and it means I'm writing her correctly. She's in a bad place right now._ _I hope you can also understand her a little bit. I've been in a similar place before, myself. Still a bumpy journey yet to come though. Let me know what you think! Thank you for reading._

_Also a huge THANK YOU to both **jazzywriter22** and **lauren3210** who always help me with my chapters and give me great advice. I don't know what I would do without these ladies. They are 2 of the best writers in the TVD fanfic world and I strongly encourage you to check out their stories. You won't be disappointed.  
><em>


	7. Terrible Lie

**Chapter 7 – Terrible Lie**

"Hey God, why are you doing this to me?  
>Am I not living up to what I'm supposed to be?<br>Why am I seething with this animosity?  
>Hey God, I think you owe me a great big apology.<p>

Terrible lie

Hey God, I really don't know what you mean.  
>Seems like salvation comes only in our dreams.<br>I feel my hatred grow all the more extreme.  
>Hey God, can this world really be as sad as it seems?<p>

Terrible lie

Don't take it away from me.  
>I need someone to hold on to.<br>Don't tear it away from me.  
>I need you to hold on to.<p>

Hey God, there's nothing left for me to hide.  
>I lost my ignorance, security and pride.<br>I'm all alone in a world you must despise.  
>Hey God, I believed your promises, your promises and lies.<p>

Terrible lie

You made me throw it all away, my morals left to decay,  
>How many you betray, you've taken everything.<br>My head is filled with disease, my skin is begging you please,  
>I'm on my hands and knees, I want so much to believe.<p>

I need someone to hold on to.  
>I need someone to hold on to.<br>I need someone, I need someone.  
>I need someone to hold on to.<br>I give you everything, my sweet everything.  
>There's nothing left for me to hide."<p>

- music & lyrics by Trent Reznor, Nine Inch Nails

* * *

><p><strong>Elena's POV<strong>

I went to school today. I won't bother to try and lie and tell you I didn't take a Valium before bed last night, because of course you know that I did. But I didn't take anything this morning and my thoughts have been far clearer than usual. Which isn't necessarily a good thing. I'm acutely aware of every glance, every word and every touch that Stefan gives me today. I wonder if he's noticed me flinch each time his fingers brush my arm or my hand? I've been steeling myself not to, but sometimes I just can't help it. Is it just me or does he seems to be touching me more than usual today?

Before I left my house I'd made up my mind that today was going to be the day that I break up with him. After everything yesterday with Damon, I can't keep up this charade any longer. I don't want to. I don't really have an option any more – Stefan is not who I want. I just hate the thought of having to hurt him.

When I saw him in person this morning my resolve weakened a little. I've now succeeded in convincing myself that I can't do it during school hours. It would hardly be fair to tell him in such a public place where all our friends would quickly know, right?

At lunch Caroline informs me that I have to help her shop for the perfect dress for Prom after school. Yep, you heard me right. Prom! I'd completely forgotten about it. I honestly sometimes feel like I've been missing out on my entire senior year experience. Turns out Prom is this Friday night. Stefan hasn't officially asked me but I guess he must assume that I'll be going with him. Everyone probably does. Caroline definitely makes it sound like I need to buy a dress, too.

I jump on the shopping plan though. It gives me a really good excuse to postpone having 'the talk' with Stefan after school now and I'm all about delaying _that_ conversation for a bit longer.

So I pretend that him holding my hand after class is not making me uncomfortable and I let him give me a quick kiss at the end of the day as I get into Caroline's car. I find I have to try hard not to grimace in distaste at it. I keep trying to remember how much I once loved him. It's a bit of a struggle right now. It seems like only last week I was still able to convince myself that I was in love with Stefan. Now, it's not even an issue. I don't want to hurt him, but I'm definitely not in love with him any more. And he deserves to know it. Before Prom.

I lean my head back against the headrest and, while Caroline chatters on about shoes or something, I let my thoughts return to yesterday in that motel room. An unconscious little smile makes its way onto my lips.

I have no intention of going to my senior Prom. I wonder if I can come up with an excuse that Caroline will accept for not buying a dress this evening?

* * *

><p><strong>Damon's POV<strong>

Today started off great. I awoke in a fan-fucking-tabulous mood – alone, I might add, but the revelations and activities of yesterday were still fresh in my mind. I don't know if I've ever woken up as happy as I did this morning in my entire 170 years. The only thing that could have further improved my mood would've been if she'd still been lying there beside me when I opened my eyes. Ah, well. I figured there was always tomorrow.

Turns out I was nearly out of blood again, so this afternoon I took a little excursion to Mystic Falls Hospital to compel a few fresh blood bags into my cooler. Would you believe I was even humming to myself as I got back into the car? Seriously. Me.

I even decided to make a little pit stop at the flower shop and bought some red roses to bring to her tonight. A little token of my affection, if you will. Hey, I never said I couldn't be romantic. Granted, normally I don't even have to try, but that doesn't mean I don't know _how_ to be.

Driving back to the motel, I'm still humming softly to myself and my thoughts are fully absorbed with memories of yesterday with her. I am still completely gob-smacked by it. She'd said she loved me. And not just into the vacant room after I'd walked out the door, either, but to my face. Several times over. I never thought the day would come that I'd ever hear her speak those three little – no, three _huge_ - goddamn words to me. She meant them, too. I could see it. I could feel it. And, shortly thereafter, I could smell, touch and taste it as well. I let myself get lost in those delicious recollections for a bit.

When I pull up in front of room 6, my spidey-vamp senses start tingling and I know something's off. I listen intently outside my door for a minute but I can't detect any unusual noises or breathing or heartbeat. Which more than likely means vampire. Way to spoil my awesome mood.

I unlock the door, step into the room and am completely unsurprised to find my baby brother slouched in the desk chair waiting for me. I greet him with a terse "Stefan," and wait for him to explain why exactly he's decided to pay me a visit. To be honest, I kinda expected he might find me before too much longer, since I'm pretty sure Elena's planning on breaking up with his sorry ass. He definitely looks pissed off, so I'm guessing she's already talked to him. I sigh. This right here is going to be a fucking delightful conversation.

Never one to back down from a challenge, I break the silence and speak first. I tell him I assume this is about Elena. He raises one eyebrow at me and says he's not an idiot. Yep, definitely going to be a fun little brotherly chat.

Realizing suddenly that I have a bouquet of roses clutched in my fingers, I toss them onto the side of the bed before I end up crushing the stems into pulp. I notice he follows their path with his eyes. I flop down beside them and wait for him to elaborate.

He tells me he can smell her in this room, in that bed, and then asks me in a low, dangerous voice, "What the fuck did you do, Damon?"

Of course. Because this has to be my fault somehow. His perfect little Elena would never choose to be with me all on her own accord. Therefore, I obviously must've compelled her to sleep with me. I guess he is actually an idiot after all, because I don't think I've ever had to compel a woman to have sex with me in my entire existence.

Perhaps I shouldn't but I just can't help myself. I break into a wide grin and assure him that no compulsion was necessary. Any of the times. And then I quickly stand up because I'm fully aware that things are about to get violent. I briefly hope the roses survive.

As expected, his fist connects squarely with my jaw and I fall backward onto the bed again. All of my instincts are screaming at me to fight the fuck back, but I don't. I know I kinda deserve it. God knows I'd do the same if I were Stefan. So I let him pound the shit out of me for a while, until he gets it all out of his system. It's basically how we deal with disagreements, he and I.

When he finally relents and collapses beside me, I know the time for talking has come. I put my hand on his shoulder and tell him I'm not sorry. I clarify that I'm sorry that he got hurt but I'm not sorry that she loves me. And then I tease him that it must suck to get dumped only a few days before Prom.

He gives me a strange look and lifts both eyebrows at me. Then he says she didn't break up with him, but he's noticed she's been acting strangely for days now and that's why he came by - to talk to me about it. He didn't know about Elena and I until he stepped into this room.

Let me first off state that I'm impressed that my brother's sleuthing skills were good enough to even lead him to find me here in the first place. But secondly, what a really shitty way to find out that your girlfriend has cheated on you. With your own brother. I actually feel pretty bad for Stefan at the moment. All my happy feelings from earlier have been replaced with that old familiar guilt again. Fuck.

One minor saving grace – I notice that the bouquet of roses was knocked onto the floor during our struggles, so at least they've survived this encounter. I don't think my relationship with my brother has, though.

* * *

><p><strong>Elena's POV<strong>

I really wish I had a Vicodin on me right now. Damn Damon for taking them yesterday! We're approaching the tail end of our third hour of dress shopping and I was done like dinner a couple hours ago. I'm not sure I can take much more of this. The scabs on my palms and my breast are itching like mad and I feel like my brain might actually be itching, too.

Caroline comes out of the change room in a full-length, strapless eggplant gown and I paste on a wide smile. I enthusiastically tell her that's the one and I actually mean it more this time than the previous ten times I've said those words tonight. She really does look gorgeous in eggplant. Apparently all the stars have aligned or something because she actually agrees with me for once.

I inwardly heave a sigh of relief and start towards the cashier when she reappears in her jeans, but she grabs my arm and reminds me that we haven't found the perfect dress for me yet. I give her my most tired, puppy dog eyes I can come up with, the ones that always seem to work so well on my boyfriends, and tell her that I'm exhausted. I remind her I have five dresses at home that haven't even been worn more than once. I guess she takes pity on me or something – it doesn't even matter why because at this point I'll accept anything – and she tells me that we can go back out shopping tomorrow night. I fake a smile and follow her to the front of the store.

And yes, I know I just said 'boyfriends' there. How much of a tramp am _I_ these days, huh? This is so not right. I really need to muster up the guts to deal with _that_ situation as soon as possible. But not tonight. At this point I really don't think I'm capable of that conversation tonight.

Finally it's nearly bedtime and I'm brushing my teeth and hoping that Damon will pay me a late night visit, when I hear the soft sound of someone moving next door in my room. I rinse and smile widely as I step back into the doorway, but then I come to an abrupt halt when I see Stefan sitting there on the side of my bed. I'm pretty sure my smile falters a little.

So much for not having this conversation tonight.

He looks up to meet my eyes as I walk into my room and for the first time ever he doesn't smile and look pleased to see me. To be honest, he doesn't really look _anything_. His eyes are expressionless, fathomless. An icy finger begins to trace its way up my spine. I've never seen him like this before.

I try to compose my features as I greet him and sit down on the bed beside him. He doesn't say anything, so after I look at him for what feels like an age but is probably less than half a minute, I take the plunge and begin. I tell him it's good that he dropped by because there's something I've been wanting to speak with him about.

He just says he knows. Now there are two icy fingers creeping over my skin and they've made their way down each arm to my suddenly sweaty palms. His face is still unreadable. I don't like it. Not one bit. Where did my sweet Stefan go?

Then it hits me. Hard. Oh my fucking God. He knows already. He knows about Damon and I. I swallow, take a breath, and try to pretend I haven't just figured this out, but he's far too aware of me. There's no doubt now that we both know the jig is up.

I can actually feel the blood draining away from my face as I stare at him and I'm pretty sure my mouth has fallen open a wee bit. I manage to utter, "You know?"

He softly tells me he knows about everything. Then he pulls out a small bouquet of red roses from behind his back.

"I believe my brother intended these for you," he says as he places them on my lap.

Oh God. My blood now runs cold to match my skin as I stare down at the deep red petals. How did Stefan get these? And where is Damon?

Before I can say another word, he grabs me by both shoulders and pulls me firmly towards him. I'm only about three inches from his face now and all I can hear is my own ragged breathing. I know he can clearly detect how fast my heart is racing. I can't believe I'm now terrified of this boy whom I used to trust so implicitly. And he well knows it.

Then my heart nearly stutters to a stop as I see his green eyes darken to blood red and those telltale black veins rise in the skin around them.

"You let him _bite_ you," he seethes. I'm so scared right now that my brain is barely processing his words. Something about me never letting _him_ bite me. And that it's hardly fair.

I hear a ripping sound and I numbly realize that he's torn my tank top down the middle. It's for sleeping, so I'm not wearing a bra underneath. He touches my left breast with two fingers, tracing over the dark scabs of Damon's bite marks. My whole body is trembling. I have no idea what he's going to do, so I try to keep as still as possible while he trails his fingers over my skin.

I manage to utter his name softly and he laughs. He tells me he wants me to scream his name, not whisper it. And then, before I can even react to that, he quickly pushes me backward onto the bed, bends over to bite down on my other breast and begins to drink.

Remember how I told you I wanted to feel pain? That I thought I deserved to hurt? Well, I take it all back. This hurts SO bad. Tears are streaming down the sides my face into my hair as I try to hold back my scream. I don't want to give him the satisfaction of making me cry out. He's not trying to make it pleasurable like Damon did - maybe on purpose to punish me or maybe he just doesn't know how to. I have never in my life felt pain like this. His teeth are tearing into me, ripping my flesh. The sounds. I will never forget these wet, tearing sounds. Oh God. Please make it stop. He has to stop, right? He wouldn't kill me, would he? Not my Stefan…

I think I might hear Damon's voice, but it seems really far away, as if from deep down a well or something. Then I slip silently into unconsciousness, depriving Stefan of the scream he so desires.

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><p><strong>AN** _Thank you SO much again for all your reviews and Favourites and Story Alerts. They all mean so much to me and put a huge smile on my face. This story is almost over - I truly hope you will like the ending once you read it. Please click on that link below and let me know what you think so far._

_I know I've said it before but I have to say it again. A huge personal "Thank You" to both **jazzywriter22** and **lauren3210** who are always there for me to help me with my chapters and give me much needed advice. I appreciate you both SO much! And readers - they are 2 of the best writers in the TVD fanfic world and I strongly encourage you to please check out their stories. I promise you won't be disappointed._


	8. Sanctified

**Chapter 8 – Sanctified**

"It's still getting worse after everything I've tried.  
>What if I found a way to wash it all aside?<br>What if she touches with those fingertips,  
>As the words spill out like fire from her lips?<p>

And if she says come inside, I'll come inside for her.  
>If she says give it all, I'll give everything to her.<br>I am justified. I am purified. I am sanctified. Inside you.

Heaven's just a rumor she'll dispel,  
>As she walks me through the nicest parts of hell.<br>I still dream of lips I never should have kissed.  
>Well she knows exactly what I can't resist.<p>

I'm still caught up in another of her spells.  
>Well she's turning me into someone else.<br>Everyday I hope and pray this will end.  
>But when I can I do it all again."<p>

- music & lyrics by Trent Reznor, Nine Inch Nails

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><p><strong>Damon's POV<strong>

Fucker broke my neck. I wasn't expecting that. I should've been though. Little brother has a devious side that Miss Gilbert has never seen before and probably doesn't believe even exists. _Oh, shit - Elena!_

Rubbing the back of my still-sore neck, I reach for my cell phone. Which isn't there, because I impulsively tossed it out the car window a couple nights ago in a fit of jealous rage. Fuck! I am a complete motherfucking idiot sometimes. Grabbing my jacket, I rush to my car. I hope I can get to her before Stefan does, but at this point it's unlikely. I have no idea how long I was down for. I notice it's full dark now.

One glance at the car and I decide to skip driving. My rising panic at the thought of what he might be capable of doing to her now that he knows the truth convinces me that tonight I can speed there faster than the Camaro.

As soon as I'm within forty feet of Elena's house, I know he's in there with her. A burst of adrenalin speeds through me and I tear up the window so quickly it's amazing it doesn't fucking shatter in my hands. The strong, sharp, coppery smell of freshly shed blood washes over my senses as the image in front of me confirms nearly all my worst fears.

Again, another myriad of emotions passes through me faster than the blink of a human eye. Jealousy and rage for what it looks like at first glance - seeing her lying half-naked on her bed with Stefan bent over her, his mouth on her bare breast. Then my rage intensifies and my jealousy morphs into abject horror as I quickly realize just exactly what he's doing to her.

Thank all the fucking gods in Heaven and demons in Hell that I'm so much stronger than my brother from all my years of human blood consumption. In less than a second I've torn him off of her and slammed him against the back of her bedroom door with a loud thump. I know it probably did further damage to Elena's poor flesh, but that's a price I'm willing to pay if getting him off of her saves her life. I'll heal her injuries just as soon as I can deal with Stefan.

I tell him he needs to get away from here and from her _right the fuck now_, or I won't hesitate to rip his heart straight out of his chest with my bare hands. He looks from me to her and back to me again, but he doesn't look mortified or ashamed like he should. He just looks passive. His Tuesday face. Only it's Monday. My fangs drop and I shake him once hard and tell him if I _ever_ lay eyes on him again he can be sure it will be for the last fucking time.

He tells me he knew I'd come. Cocksucker even has the nerve to smile that creepy tight little smile of his at me. I nearly rip it right the fuck off his face. Before he vanishes out the window, I absolutely cannot fucking believe he has the balls to tell me he'll make whatever's left of my life a living hell. If I wasn't so terrified for Elena right now, I'd laugh. I've said the very same to him in the past, and I'm _way_ better at torment and revenge than he could ever hope to be. Man, I fucking _wrote_ that book.

Quickly, I kneel on the bed beside her. She's unresponsive and the comforter below her is drenched with her blood. I can feel myself beginning to lose my shit as I bite into my wrist and press it against her slack lips. She isn't drinking on her own but I'm praying that some will trickle down her throat and start to work its magic anyway.

I tell her she'd better not fucking die on me now. Not now. Not after we've finally come this far together. I'm begging her to drink.

For what must be a first in the entire time I've known her, she actually does what I tell her to do. She finally begins to swallow.

As I exhale a huge sigh of relief, I notice with surprise the somewhat squished bouquet of red roses lying beside her on the bed.

* * *

><p><strong>Elena's POV<strong>

Holy Mother of God - the pain. It hurts so _incredibly_. I just…just…I really want to go back to that place where the pain can't follow me. I slowly become aware that there's something pressed firmly against my lips though, and a viscous liquid is filling my mouth. I have to swallow; I can't help it. It tastes coppery but the undertone is savoury and wild. It's decadent. I can't stop – now I'm eagerly gulping it down. I can hear Damon's voice telling me that I've had enough and suddenly the thick fluid is gone. I feel his fingers stroke my cheek and, as usual, his touch sends what feels like a minor electric current through my system. In a good way. Oh, thank God he's here. He'll make all my pain go away.

I feel him pick me up in his arms like a child and carry me. I'm not ready to open my eyes yet. I'm still so scared of what I might see if I do. Slipping my arms up around his neck, I cling to him as he walks. I don't want him to ever let me go. The sound of running water begins, so I assume we're in the bathroom. He's pulling off my pajama shorts and panties and then he carefully lifts me into the tub.

The warm water rising around me and enveloping my goose-bumped flesh feels so incredible. All my tense muscles begin to relax a little. I feel a hot washcloth gently press against my sternum and I realize that Damon is washing me. Wonders will never cease. Eventually I dare to flick my eyes open to find his very worried blue ones gazing back at me. I glance down and see that the water is already stained pink with my blood. He tells me not to worry, that his blood will make me all better. And I know it's true. I always feel protected when I'm with him.

Speaking of which, where is Stefan? I must get a panicked look on my face when this thought flashes across my mind, because Damon quickly reassures me that he's gone. He adds the word 'forever' but he doesn't really sound like he believes that. I don't believe it either.

The feeling of both the washcloth and his hands stroking my body is really soothing. I can literally feel most of the tension and stress wash off me along with the blood. Damon really has a very tender side that he likes to keep hidden from the world. Sometimes I think maybe I'm the only one who's seen that part of him in all the years since he was human.

I stiffen and brace myself to look down at my breast to assess my injury. I'm already trying to mentally prepare for how ugly it will be, but to my great relief the current reality is nowhere near as horrible as I'd been imagining. Damon's healing blood has been hard at work repairing the brutal damage his brother so viciously inflicted.

Reaching down to still his hand for a moment, I meet his eyes directly to quietly and sincerely thank him. He just gives me a tight smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. It's obvious to me that he's still really upset, but he's trying his best to hide it from me so that I might relax. I know him well enough now to not be fooled, though.

The thought flashes across my mind that I wish I were in a state to enjoy being naked under his hands in a different way right now. It might seem absurd to think something like that in this moment, but in different scenario this situation would be incredibly erotic. I make a mental note to replay this bathtub moment with him again in the future. Minus all the blood, of course.

Soon enough he drains the water, lifts me out and begins to towel me off. Without me even asking, he starts applying my strawberry-scented body lotion to my skin. As he does this, I happen to glance down at my chest again. And then I just start to cry. Which, you're thinking, is totally irrational, right? Because I'm completely healed. And, strange as it may sound, that's the exact reason I'm weeping.

Damon stops what he's doing, puts down the bottle and cradles the sides of my face with his strong hands. He looks worriedly at me. My sobbing only intensifies as he asks me what's wrong. He asks me where it hurts. I just shake my head at him, tears flying everywhere. I know he thinks it must be a response to the whole terrifying ordeal I just went though. But he's wrong. It has nothing to do with Stefan right at this moment.

I managed to gasp out between sobs that they're gone and he tilts his head, narrows his eyes a bit and gives me a confused look.

Struggling for composure, I find my voice enough to tell him his marks are gone. My hand goes up to the top of my left breast to emphasize what I mean. They were his. His marks on me. And now they're gone. Not a trace remains of the bite wounds I demanded that he give me that first time. The ones I haven't yet let heal. The ones I wanted to keep scars from forever to always remind me of him.

* * *

><p><strong>Damon's POV<strong>

Apparently this girl will never, ever cease to amaze me. After all that she's just been through thanks to my psychotic dickhead of a brother, she's actually crying right now because my blood _healed_ her. Not cause it repaired the horrendous damage Stefan inflicted – I'm gonna assume she's cool with _that_ – but because it also completely took away my bite marks that I left on her from the first time we were together last week.

Seriously.

I stare at Elena slack-jawed, probably more resembling a slow-witted ape than a man right now. She says she wanted to keep them so that she would always remember. As a keepsake. To remind her of me. She wanted to keep the twin scars from my fangs on her breast forever as a fucking memento? And now they're gone and she's mourning their loss? My pathetic little mind is really having difficulty processing this.

I decide to stop straining myself by even trying to comprehend exactly why this is causing all these tears and assume it's a delayed reaction to the trauma she just went through. Shaking my head in a desperate attempt to reboot my brain, I simply pick her up in my arms and carry her bridal-style back into her room to her bed. Which I'd forgotten is currently soaked in blood.

Gingerly, I set her on the clean edge of the mattress and move to retrieve some fresh pajamas from her dresser. Which I turn back around she's staring mesmerized down at the bouquet of roses that she's now holding and one finger is stroking a velvety red petal. They're looking rather a bit worse for wear after all they've gone through today, but frankly it's impressive that they're not in pieces and that they made it into her arms after all. I smile as I remember how happy I was not so many hours ago when I bought them for her. When I tell her this she raises her eyes back to mine and returns my smile.

Thank fucking Christ - that's better. After all this crazy bullshit, I've gotten Elena to smile again. I've always been good at putting a grin back on this girl's face. You can add that to the long list of my many talents.

Five minutes later, I've changed the sheets, retrieved a clean comforter down from the hall closet, put the roses in a vase and tucked her into her bed.

She asks me if I'll stay with her tonight and I don't even hesitate. I softly tell her I'll stay with her every night from now on if she'll have me. I'd be lying to you if I said my cold, dead heart doesn't almost leap out of my chest in elation when she quietly whispers back that she'll always have me.

I drop my jacket on the window seat, locking the window before I turn and slip under the clean blankets and pull her snuggly against me. I press a gentle kiss to the top of her forehead and begin to tell her goodnight.

My intentions are pure, I swear to you. After all the terror of the evening and the stress of the aftermath, I assume she'll just want to curl up against me and sleep. I only want her to feel safe again and I'm pretty confident that she does now that I'm here.

But she surprises me yet again.

* * *

><p><strong>Elena's POV<strong>

I still can't believe how incredibly sweet and caring Damon has been with me tonight. I don't know why I'm so surprised at him taking such good care of me – I, more than anyone, should understand his tender side – but everything he does right now just impresses me more and more. I wish I'd met this Damon back at the beginning. It seems that I didn't really know either of the Salvatore brothers as well as I'd thought. They both keep their true selves deeply hidden. I had let myself be fooled for too long, but now my blinders are completely off. This man who is holding me so lovingly in his arms right now - this is where I belong.

I don't hurt anymore. Damon's blood took care of all my pain. Surprised, I suddenly realize that I don't even hurt inside any longer. Because I no longer have to feel guilty. Because I know we love each other and loving each other means accepting and forgiving each other. I know he's forgiven me for all my sins without even a second thought. And I have always forgiven all of his.

Suddenly the need to kiss him overtakes me and I lift my face up to press my lips against his. He gently kisses me back for a few moments, then pulls away and quietly asks me if I'm really up for this tonight. I whisper that nothing hurts anymore and I know that he understands the double meaning of my words. He softly says I don't have to feel sad about the loss of his marks on my skin because I don't need to bear any scars to remind me of him. That I'll always have the real thing for as long as I want him. I murmur that I'll want him forever and with a soft moan he captures my lips in his once again.

Between his healing blood in my system and his incredible mind-altering, soul-consuming kisses arousing every part of my body, I feel completely re-energized. A hot, tight coiling of delicious pressure is building up in my lower belly already. My nimble fingers quickly find the buttons on his shirt and make short work of them. I splay my hands across his hard, muscular chest and begin to explore every inch of his smooth torso with my fingertips.

He groans a most erotic deep rumbling sound against my mouth and pulls away to lift my pajama top up over my head. The rest of our clothes aren't far behind joining it on the floor.

Then we're all tangled up in each other. Damon's so caring and gentle with me and I let him be this time. This is what I want tonight. Each place his skin touches my own, it feels both cold and hot at the same time; the sensations feel absolutely electrifying. He makes me tremble with desire, love and need with every touch of his lips, of his fingers. Of everything.

He worships me, he reveres me, he loves me with all he has to give. I've never been made to feel quite this way before. And I never want to feel anything other than this for the rest of my existence.

Finally, just when I absolutely cannot stand it any longer and am seriously about to beg him, he gently pushes himself inside me and we again become one in the most intimate way we can - that doesn't involve blood. Because tonight is not about blood and we both know it. There has been more than enough bloodshed this evening and we don't want to tarnish our moment with any reminder of it.

We make love for what seems like endless hours; skin sliding against skin made slippery with sweat and other fluids. Always face-to-face, because tonight this physical demonstration of our connection requires no less of us. If our lips aren't connected, then our eyes always are. By unspoken agreement we both need it to be like this right now.

I still find myself a little bit regretful when eventually all the fireworks have gone off and it's over for tonight. But I'm not melancholy for long. Finally I'm confident enough in us to not worry any more that this time will be the last time.

Before I settle back down to sleep, I softly tell him that I love him. I tell him that I'll always love him.

He gives me a tender smile and says he loves me, too. And then his smiles morphs into that old familiar smirk and he asks if he can be my date for my senior Prom.

My eyes widen at the thought of that, but I quickly accept. I'm not ashamed of him and I think it's about time to show the world who Elena Gilbert really is. An imperfect girl who's made a lot of mistakes in her past, but now knows exactly who she wants to be. And who she wants to be her with.

**FIN**

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><p><strong>AN** _OK, so before you say it, I already know that there are a few things that didn't get dealt with by the end of this and a loose string or two that hasn't been wrapped up. I've been thinking recently that perhaps this story is one that might get a sequel. Probably not until sometime during the long hiatus though. If you liked it enough to want to read a sequel, please consider adding me to your Author Alerts. Feel free to let me know your thoughts, ideas, suggestions, etc. in a review by clicking on the link below. I would love to hear from you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading and for all the kind reviews that have already been sent my way. You guys make my day and make me inspired to write more. In the meantime, I do have some other D/E stories that you can read if you like (and review, cause obviously I'm not above begging for feedback! haha)_


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